Bed survivor.

There's something very important that I forgot off the previous list, which became very evident when the train doors opened this morning, waking me up from my daily nap. Skunks.

Or, shall I say, dead skunks. Dead skunks in the middle of the road, stinking to high heaven. Who wrote that song? I want to say Chilliwack but it isn't. They announce them in the traffic reports on the radio every day.

Kevin says the best things happen in cheap motels and I second that.

One time we went to Victoria for Elk Lake Sprints and we had nine people in a room with two beds. We kept arguing about who should have to sleep on the floor until finally we came up with a solution.

Bed survivor.

Two people who had slept on the floor for the past two nights had immunity and gave everyone challenges, after which people were voted off the bed.

Challenge number 1: karaoke.
Out came the cd's and the girls with immunity assigned songs at random. Needless to say I was eliminated and got to sleep underneath the desk because I was the only one who would fit there.

Challenge number 2: sucking up to the judges.
Alright, that challenge wasn't exactly all that fair...

Challenge number 3: rythmic gymnastics.
This consisted of jumping up and down on the bed in as creative a way as possible. We let Baby Dave join in at this point, just so we could see him look like an idiot, and I don't think anyone ever told him that he was never really in the running. Poor guy nearly put his head through the ceiling. The best one though was Meredith, who fell off the bed and nearly went through the window.

Final Challenge: free for all.
Everyone still remaining on the bed began to wrestle and everything was legal. Last one on the bed wins. Some people decided that they would sneak under the covers and take their shirts off to pretend that they were naked, but even that could not save them from having their hair pulled and then tossed to the floor.

I can't remember who won.

Little Cam sat and watched the whole event with a bemused grin. He was something like twelve years old at the time. I'm amazed that we returned him to his mother in one piece.

I'm also amazed at how they let us come back repeatedly to that motel for more regattas, more noise and furnature abuse. I'm pretty sure they must charge a special surcharge just for rowers.

Somewhere I have more motel stories...